


O Death

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Loudmouth has a conversation with Death on a battlefield.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/gifts).



> Rabble, Ruckus, and Mischief belong to the lovely [kristsune!](%E2%80%9Dwww.kristsune.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)

Loudmouth stands over Rabble’s body, shaking with pain and exhaustion, but the blaster in his hands is steady as he aims it at what he’s almost sure is a hallucination.  The woman is… he can’t think of any way to describe her, like she’s there and  _ not  _ at the same time.  She looks  _ kind _ , and she reminds him a little of General Ti on Kamino, but she’s not Togruta.  She’s not like any being he’s ever seen before.  She doesn’t show up on any of his HUD feeds, even though he can see her through his visor.  “Who are you?”  She doesn’t have a weapon, and she doesn’t look like any of the Seps they’ve put down today.

“You don’t need your weapon anymore, soldier.”  Her voice echoes a little, like a bad comm connection.  A chill runs down his spine when he realizes her lips didn’t move.

He barks a laugh that sounds as pained and ragged as he feels, accepting the strangeness for now.  It’s not going to matter before too long anyway.  “Not a chance, sir.  Who are you? She smiles at his response.  “I came to take you and your brother home.”

“Are you Separatist?”  His finger tightens a little on the trigger.  “You’re not Republic.”

Her head tilts and her smile falls away, grief written in the furrow of her brow and the shine in her eyes, and she shrugs a shoulder, gesturing at the battlefield and the bodies of brothers and Separatists alike with the same motion.  “Republic and Separatist are all the same to me.  There are always wars, it’s only the names that change.  Death always comes for both of them.”

“There’s a lot of differences.”  Loudmouth doesn’t know why he’s still talking to her.  He isn’t sure he’s talking at all.  He’s still pretty sure he’s hallucinating - did being hallucinate when they died?  He’s heard men talking to their brothers before, telling them they weren’t ready to go.  They were always the ones that marched away first.  Shaking off the thought, he steadies his blaster again, keeping it center mass.  

“They told you that, didn’t they?  So you’ll give your lives for their cause.  You’ll suffer and lay down your life without complaint because they told you that you’re on the right side of history.”  Her hand rests on his - he doesn’t know when she got so close, but his blaster suddenly feels so  _ heavy _ in his hands.  He clenches his jaw and forces himself to hold it up still.  “You don’t have to fight anymore, little soldier, it’s alright, just come with me, and you can rest.  I’m here now, it’s alright.”  Her voice is mesmerising, and he can’t look away from her eyes.  There’s something about her voice that isn’t… it isn’t right, but he’s so  _ tired _ , and warmth is seeping from her skin through his glove and after a day and night of nothing but cold and mud and blood, it feels incredible.  “Just rest.  You’ve earned it.”

Loudmouth tries to shake his head.  “Can’t- can’t leave Rabble.  ‘s my brother.”  Rabble needs a medic, and he can get him to the rendezvous point… he knows he can.

“It’s alright.  He’s coming with us.”

That’s what snaps him out of the dreamlike state her hypnotic voice her soft voice has eased him into.  “No.  No, you’re not taking him.”  With a sudden clarity, he knows that if they follow her, there’s no coming back.  It takes every bit of willpower he has, but he forces himself to lift his blaster again and squares himself, still standing protectively over Rabble’s body -  _ please stay with me, Rab’ika, please, I don’t know what we’ll do without you, please just stay alive _ \- “He’s our brother, and you’re not taking him.”

“You know who I am.  You know I’ll find you again one day.  Your brothers as well.”

He smirks behind his helmet, giving her a rude Mando gesture.  “But not today.”

She gives him a last, lingering look that borders on  _ fury _ before she disappears.  Loudmouth lets out a breath as all the pain and weariness comes crashing down on his shoulders, swaying on his feet before he steadies himself and slings his Deece over his back.  He hesitates as he turns to Rabble, afraid to look at the display with vital signs.  “Oh thank the gods,” he whispers as they appear - they’re weak, but they’re steady enough, if he can just get back to their company, he’ll be okay.  He’s ignoring his own vitals, the blood dripping slowly from between armor plates, soaking through his blacks to stain the white-and-gold of his armor.  “Come on, vod.”  He bites the inside of his cheek hard to keep from crying out as he lifts Rabble and settles him on his shoulders, slowly placing one foot in front of the other as he heads toward the rendezvous point, begging every god that he’ll get there in time.  

He doesn’t know how long he’s been marching - it could be hours, it could be a full day, but he hears voices ahead: Ruckus sounds  _ terrified _ , and even the low, hoarse rumble of Mischief’s voice is worried.  Distantly, he thinks that it’s good that they’re there, because he can’t manage another step.  Just as he sees their distinctive armor, he slumps to his knees, still careful not to drop Rabble as he collapses.  The world goes dark as he hears them shout, and the last thing he remembers is being cradled in someone’s arms.

Loudmouth wakes up out of his armor, in a medical tent with the soft beeping of a monitor in his ears.  He groans softly, blinking away the grittiness of sleep as he opens his eyes, forcing himself up to look around.  Mischief is there in a heartbeat, shushing him, tilting his head to Rabble asleep on the cot next to them, Ruckus just as soundly asleep, leaning back in a folding chair.  He sighs and settles down, closing his eyes and falling asleep to the feeling of Mischief’s hand on his.


End file.
